We Russians have assigned ourselves no other task in life but the cultivation of our own personalities, and when we’re barely past childhood, we set to work to cultivate them, those unfortunate personalities.
IVAN TURGENEVWe Russians have assigned ourselves no other task in life but the cultivation of our own personalities, and when we’re barely past childhood, we set to work to cultivate them, those unfortunate personalities.
IVAN TURGENEVThe word tomorrow was invented for indecisive people and for children.
IVAN TURGENEVThe past was a dream wasn’t it? And who ever remembers dreams?
IVAN TURGENEVThere are some moments in life, some feelings; one can only point to them and pass by.
IVAN TURGENEVEveryone needs help from everyone else.
IVAN TURGENEVThe temerity to believe in nothing.
IVAN TURGENEVIllness isn’t the only thing that spoils the appetite.
IVAN TURGENEVNature is not a temple, but a workshop, and man’s the workman in it.
IVAN TURGENEVBehind me there are already so many memories Lots of memories, but no point in remembering them, and ahead of me a long, long road with nothing to aim for I just don’t want to go along it.
IVAN TURGENEVWhat did I hope for, what did I expect, what rich future did I foresee, when the phantom of my first love, rising up for an instant, barely called forth one sigh, one mournful sentiment?
IVAN TURGENEVSo many memories and so little worth remembering, and in front of me – a long, long road without a goal.
IVAN TURGENEVNothing is worse and more hurtful than a happiness that comes too late. It can give no pleasure, yet it deprives you of that most precious of rights – the right to swear and curse at your fate!
IVAN TURGENEVI never started from ideas but always from character.
IVAN TURGENEVI was as happy as a fish in water, and I could have stayed in that room for ever, have never left that place.
IVAN TURGENEVLove isn’t actually a feeling at all–it’s an illness, a certain condition of body and soul…. Usually it takes possession of someone without his permission, all of a sudden, against his will–just like cholera or a fever.
IVAN TURGENEVEach individual is more or less dimly aware of his significance, is aware that he’s something innately superior, something eternal–and lives, is obligated to live, in the moment and for the moment.
IVAN TURGENEV